


Nights Before and Mornings After

by SunnyD_lite



Series: Blindsided Verse [9]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-16
Updated: 2005-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:58:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the battle with the first, Spike and Xander reach a detente. Then Andrew spills the beans and Xander turns up at Spike's Bedside immediately after Damage. These stories are interwoven with canon.<br/>PREVIOUSLY ON BLINDSIDED: Funny how that voice could make parts of him leap to attention. Looking into Spike's dilated eyes, Xander thought <i>fuck it</i>.</p><p>"The shower stall's big enough for two. Want to help?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nights Before and Mornings After

**Author's Note:**

> Bunches of thanks to my beta **ponders_life**, she's a life saver! Even if she did tag me for 2 memes

PREVIOUSLY ON BLINDSIDED: Funny how that voice could make parts of him leap to attention. Looking into Spike's dilated eyes, Xander thought _fuck it_.

"The shower stall's big enough for two. Want to help?"

 

A thought crossed Xander's mind, and then another thought followed it. The second thought was more of a feeling of pride that he COULD think, what with the amazing sensations running through him. The hot water from the shower and the fact that the person giving him a blow job didn't need to breathe meant that he was not suffering from lack of attention.

The first thought had been: "Shit! How do we know that his soul's anchored?" And the portion of his brain that censored speech must have been focused on the blow job rather than ITS job because, suddenly, the nice sensations stopped and there was a pinch on his thigh.

He looked down into the very pissed-off face of Spike, who growled out, "Not cursed, fought for it. No bleeding happiness clause, but if you think I'm the great pouf I can just..."

"No! I mean no need to stop, you are definitely not Angel, way less with the brooding, but stopping would rank up there with Angelus torture tactics. If I'm left this hard, I don't know if I'd be able to assist you at all with that little –" He heard another growl. "NOT little very not little big quite quite, um, you're not going to want to top, are you? Cause, well, with the not little --"

Apparently satisfied and, by his expression, smugly pleased with the Xander babble, Spike resumed his previous task.

Xander hadn't been sure what response he'd get with his invitation of a shower for two, but the result was beyond any of his expectations, and that was without the *oh yeah, like that* actual attention. He hadn't been laughed at, and the gleam in Spike's eye, while evil, was also lustful. His knees began signaling "imminent support failure, captain". He reached out to grab the shower stall door and held on with a mountaineer's death grip, so glad that it wasn't a normal tub or else they would so be shopping for shower curtains. So what if this was only a one-time offer? He damn well deserved something from the universe, and if all that was in the cards was being sucked off by a vamp, then get sucked off he would.

There were so many sensations that his brain couldn't process what was happening, just that it was one damn fine party and that it really didn't need the last few drops of blood which could so better be tended to elsewhere and hey, who knew stars came in purple?

There was a low reverberating chuckle. "Don't think that purple star was the only thing that came, pet."

He ignored that comment and rested against the tiled wall, blocking all external stimuli in favor of a blissed-out fog.

"Shouldn't you take off that eyepatch? Can't be easy to wash your hair like that."

Xander just ducked his head to the left, trying to hide his deformity. "It's fine. Shouldn't your mouth be doing something other than talking right now?" And was he really bossing around a vampire whose mouth (fangs) were that close to the family jewels? It seemed to help Spike refocus and, with a dancer's grace, he rose and firmly attached his lips to Xander's.

Spike broke the kiss. Xander tried to move only to discover Spike's hands on either side of his head, caging him in.

"Think there're a few little details you neglected to mention, Harris. Why the fuck are you here?"

"Shower?"

"Not the bleeding shower, though it's a waste of damn fine blood, when I could have cleaned that cut. City of Angels, mate, and do any of the others know where you are?"

"The water is getting cold."

"Then you'll just have to hurry up those answers, won't you?"

He tried to silence Spike with a kiss. Didn't it work in _Taming of the Shrew_? Andrew had dragged him to that play when they were in London, and Kennedy had complained about the misogyny of the last scene.

Wrong shrew.

"Full marks for initiative, but looking for some answers here."

Answers? As in spoken words? When he was in his happy place? But why did his happy place include a growling vampire? Being a Scooby has so messed with his sex life.

"Not really the info I was looking for."

Xander looked into Spike's now highly amused eyes. Oh shit, did he just --?

He looked again at Spike's smirk. Yup, the Scooby-and-sex-life thought HAD crossed his lips. He dropped his head onto Spike's wet shoulder and groaned. This was not in any fantasy sequence he'd created, and during the weeks he'd been in LA there'd been plenty of those. Who was he kidding? Spike had been sneaking in and out *Bad Phrase* of his fantasies for years.

Wait a second. Spike had shivered when he'd groaned. Did that mean --? He tried nibbling along the top of Spike's shoulder to where it joined that long neck. More groans. Oh how cute is that? The vamp had a neck fetish! Score one for the Xan-man. He let his arms rise up to snake one around Spike's waist and the other into his hair, and gave Spike's head a small jerk to the right, exposing that column to his mouth's attention. He didn't want to think, so he had to stop Spike from thinking, too.

Thinking lead to questions. Questions like Spike had asked. Why was he here? Was he just running away? Or scarier, had he been running to? Too many questions, more neck to explore.

***********************

"No curtains."

Spike considered that remark.

One survival trait Angelus had drummed into his head was to wake up alert in strange surroundings. And finding his head on a warm chest qualified. Xander's and his own scents were intermingled like they'd, well...there'd been lots of foreplay but no actual fucking that he could recall.

So Xander fancied him. Not a surprise after the time they spent together since he'd arrived all "out of Africa" by Spike's bedside.

But Xander had stepped up and asked him. And that was a shock. Lad was a bit reactionary in relationships if his tales of dating woe were to be believed. That interlocking parts story was priceless! The grin that thought brought to Spike's face was quickly quelled. What did Xander think he'd asked for? And what was this about curtains?

"Curtains?" Oh, yeah. Definitely one of his better interrogation efforts, right up there with Python's comfy chair.

"Living room. Big windows. Facing east."

Curt. Harris was being succinct? He used to babble even in his sleep in the basement.

"Bugger. Guess I'm stuck here."

"Told ya we needed to shower before falling asleep," Xander chuckled.

Then his pillow moved, stretching, reaching, and he figured out that Xander's found the eyepatch on the bedside table. That was one of the few barriers they didn't cross last night. Xander wouldn't let him remove it.

"Got some blood. If you'd let me up, I'll check on the scorch level of the living room."

"Could just stay here a bit, pet." He tried to put a leer in his voice. He'd been good at seduction, but that's when it was a game.

His suggestion wasn't dignified with a response. Instead, his pillow moved, dumping him on the bed. Xander pulled his legs to the floor and stretched again, giving Spike a lovely view of that muscled back. Then Xander walked toward the kitchen. Without the benefit of clothes.

Not that he wasn't enjoying the view, but this new comfort level only added to Spike's confusion. Xander had always hid behind atrocious shirts and oversized jeans. Even during a heat wave, he'd always worn at least boxers.

And his trysts in Africa, the ones he'd mentioned anyway, didn't add up to this casual comfort. Was he willing to be vulnerable? Or did Spike not matter? Maybe it was on some insane Scooby "To Do" list: Shag a souled vampire. Should he expect Red to turn up next?

"Good news, Blondie. We slept late enough that I won't need a DustBuster if you come out here," Harris called from the main area.

Taking that as an invitation, to what he still wasn't sure, Spike pulled on his black jeans and headed for breakfast. Not that he was against nudity, just preferred to be the one making Harris uncomfortable, that's all.

The boy, holding a slice of cold pizza in his hand, waved him to the microwave just as its timer dinged.

"Sorry, no Weetabix. No idea where to buy THOSE in L.A. There's some pretzels if you're interested."

"Ta ever so. I think I'll save those for my beer." Spike took a sip then spun around to pin Harris with his glare.

"Where'd you get the B pos, mate?"

Xander looked back at him without any indication that he felt Spike's glare. "Figured you'd be by at some point," was his only response.

Of the possible morning-after scenarios, genial host was never a role he'd figured Droopy Drawers for. He kept staring at his--friend? lover?--who was still wearing only an eyepatch. Not that the lad had anything to be ashamed of, but...he caught a now familiar scent and smiled smugly as a part of Xander waved hello.

"Keep staring like that, and you'll need to delay that shower. What time do you have to turn up at Angel's?"

"Not on a bloody leash. Freelance, emphasis on "free". Why?"

"Building has some tunnel access, not sure how it works. There's also an underground garage, but without a car..."

"Meaning to ask you about that. Couldn't the Council have sprung for a rental? Easier than hoofing it."

That comment only earned him a snort. "In the land of the litigious and the home of punitive damages? Do you think any agency is going to rent to someone with only half the peripheral vision? Not someone under 25, anyway, and the Council hasn't set up a corporate account."

"Have you been spending time with Chuck? Sounded all attorney-at-law there."

"Nope, still have my Cyclops license, but..." He shrugged and plopped himself down on one of the bar stools, still eating his pizza. "Not like playing Car Guy turned out well before."

Who was this? Wasn't like any Xander incarnation, including that soldier thing one Halloween, he'd ever seen. Calm, in control. It was good to see, but still disconcerting. And, thinking back on it, he'd never answered the questions Spike had posed last night. Doubt he'd get an answer now. Maybe he should try a different tack.

Resting his arms on the breakfast bar, Spike took another sip from his mug. "Been meaning to ask you a question." Ah, there was the expected tension.

"Shoot."

Give the lad points. He did recover well.

"It's about the towel you slipped on. You were always whinging at me to pick up the towels -- never expected you to follow MY example."

Interesting. Xander's arms crossed, his back stiffened, that perky cock deflated, and his head hung so his chin almost hit his chest. Defeated and hiding something. And this from the towels?

"Not mine," came a low whisper.

"Huh?"

He took in a deep breath, than raised his head to look Spike in the eyes. "The apartment -- hell, even the basement -- was MY turf. Paid for. I had control. Call it 'house pride' for lack of a better phrase. So I treated it how my parents didn't. And I wasn't going to let anyone disrespect MY place. Here? This?" He gestured to the swank condo. "Not mine. Not paid for. Maid service once a week whether anyone's here or not. Why bother?" Having completed this declaration, the lad again slumped down. "Looks like I'm more homeless than you, this time."

That answered Spike's question about whether the others knew he was here. But not why he was here in the first place. Didn't answer why Spike was here, but definitely things to think about.

"Should pop by the office. My day's not complete without a round of kick Peaches. See if there're any nasties to kill. Should I call if anything comes up?"

The question was worth the surprised and confused look he'd startled out of Harris. He hadn't lied last night. Lad had strong moves and was good in a fight.

"Are you asking me on an official patrol? Thought that was for the hero-types."

"So? What's the number here?" Spike wasn't sure what was going on, but at least he could now find Xander, instead of Xander always finding him. As mornings after went, genial host beat pissed-off Slayer hands down. Not sure where this was going, but Spike was definitely up for the ride.

 

**************************************

He'd left. Finally he'd left. Xander now let his inner Zeppo out and sagged into the sofa. Or tried to sag, leather and bare skin, not so slippery, bad for the sagging.

Since Sunnydale he'd had experience bringing Suave Xander to the fore. Might as well learn something from all the metaphysical butt-monkey experiences he'd had care of the Hellmouth. And Suave Xander got better service at hotels, was more persuasive with parents of Slayers, and, the few times he'd tried, better at--what was that British phrase?-- pulling a few guys in.

In other words, Suave Xander was a shield. And, waking up with a sleepy Spike on your chest? It had been so comfortable, felt so right, that he just knew another of Spike's Doc Martenswas going to drop, and drop hard. Not that he'd had much experience with mornings after. What with Faith's nanoseconds of afterglow and Anya's confident declaration that she was "over him now", he really didn't have a clear road map for this type of thing. And either of those scenarios with Spike? Well, the idea hurt. A lot.

He peeled himself from the sofa and wandered to the kitchenette to rinse out the mug before the blood set. Yup, living with an undead roommate taught you all sorts of useful facts, like the drying time of blood on ceramics.

He'd seen Naked!Spike. Spike had seen Naked!Xander. No outbursts of laughter, so a check in the good column. Okay, Naked!Spike, more a check in the amazing column. He'd caught glimpses over the years, like that time when Spike was "exercising." But, once again, his imagination had let him down.

But after the amazingness of last night, this morning was the pit of questions. The waking up had been good. Nice to share a bed again and, instead of being the blanket hog he'd half expected, Spike had been a cuddler. Wonder what the Vegas odds on that would have been?

He'd mentioned patrolling. Not a date, but...this WAS Spike. Hadn't Buffy said he'd invited her to a stakeout as a date one time? Probably shouldn't assume anything, but not running for the hills was SO much better than the other options.

Drying the now rinsed mug, Xander took a deep breath. Last night had been unbelievable, and they hadn't gone past foreplay. This morning Suave Xander had kept his dignity intact, 'cept for the homeless bit. He had an invitation to patrol. This just might work out. Oh God! At least he didn't jinx it by saying THAT out loud.

Even though his only appointments today were with Oprah and Dr. Phil, Xander headed to take a shower. He had some new material to work into his fantasies.


End file.
